Peter Stamm - In Strange Gardens and Other Stories

The next afternoon we went swimming again. The water was cold, and we soon returned to the shore.

“They were here too,” said Monika, picking up a chocolate wrapper that was lying on the sand. “Pigs.”

“It could have been anyone.”

“I expect he did it to her here too.”

“You’re a little bit obsessed. Leave them alone. If they enjoy it.”

“It spoils everything,” said Monika. She balled up the wrapper and threw it in the bushes. “How do you do it? You’re not a monk. How long have you been on your own?”

“Half a year … eight months. How do I do what?”

“It’s so strange. It’s nice, it doesn’t cost anything, and you can do it anywhere. And yet …”

“I don’t know … Really — everywhere …”

“In principle,” said Monika. “Where was the craziest place that you slept with a woman?”

We had hung our towels up to dry on a tree, and were lying on the grassy bank. Monika turned toward me, looked at me, and smiled.

“It was just I didn’t have any respect for you then,” she said. “I liked you all right. But if I don’t have any respect for a man …”

“What about now?” I asked.

Some clouds had drawn up, and when they passed in front of the sun, the temperature cooled quickly. We packed our things together, and moved off. The wind was gusting, but the water was almost still and very dark, and made little sucking sounds against the thin aluminum sides of our canoe. In some places it curled up, as over some shallows. Then we saw a flash of lightning, and we counted the seconds till the thunder, and we knew there was a storm at hand. I remembered my childhood, when the lifeguard had got us all out of the water when there was a storm coming. Then on the shore, just ahead of us, we spotted one of the little shelters they set up for canoeists here and there along the river. When we moored our boat, the waves were already high, and then all at once it started to rain. We pulled the boat onto the shore, covered it over with a tarpaulin, and ran for shelter.

“Where do you reckon the others are now?” I asked.

“No idea,” said Monika. “Struck by lightning, for all I care.”

The rain fell. We sat in the shelter for hours. Monika leaned against me, and I put my arm around her. Some time, we both fell asleep. Later on, we got the camping stove out of the boat, and made coffee and smoked the last of my cigarettes.

“What will we do if it doesn’t stop raining?” I asked.

“Oh, it always stops eventually,” said Monika.

It had gotten cold, and we could barely see the opposite bank through the teeming rain. It was like sitting in a room with walls of water. Gradually, it lessened, and we caught a glimpse of a low-angled sun. We paddled on. The river narrowed, and the current increased. We passed under a solitary bridge that water was still dripping off. In some places, trees had toppled into the river, and we had to squeeze by them. That night, we had trouble finding a campsite. By the time we finally did, mist was already rising off the water. We tried, unsuccessfully, to light a fire.

The next morning the sun was shining, but round about noon it began to rain again. A fisherman we met as we carried the boat around a little lock warned us that the weather would stay like this now. And it really did rain all that day, into the evening, when we put up our tent. Everything was wet, and this time we didn’t try and cook, we just ate crispbread and ham with sweet mustard.

I couldn’t sleep for a long time that night, but it didn’t bother me. I listened to the rain falling on the taut canvas and thought of the time I was in love with Monika, and all that had passed since then. It rained all that night, and it was raining the next morning, and through most of that day as well. When it finally stopped, we had long since stopped bothering about it.

The river levels were high now, and the water was murky with particles of earth. The river was narrow at this point, and the current was so strong that the water seemed to roar, and we stopped using our paddles except to keep from running into anything. When we came around a corner, we saw a canoe on the bank, with bags, mats, and a couple of sleeping bags next to it. There was a big dent on it.

“I think they must have capsized,” said Monika. “Our two fuckers. Shall we go see?”

“Do you want to?” I asked.

“They might need help,” she said. “It’s our duty as citizens.”

We allowed ourselves to drift past the spot, turned, and made our way back to the bank against the current. “Hallo!” called Monika. “Michael, Sandra, are you there?” We heard nothing. Monika said she was going to have a little look around, and would I make some coffee. Then she found Michael, and called me.

“Sandra’s gone to get help,” said Michael, “she headed into the forest.”

We helped him to get up. The three of us couldn’t squeeze through the trees, but it turned out Michael wasn’t in such a bad way as we’d initially supposed. He was able to walk unaided, but he had a limp, and favored his bare foot. By the time we were beside the river, the water for coffee was boiling. We only had two cups. Monika and I shared one, and gave the other one to Michael. After a few swallows, he began to talk.

“There was a fallen tree lying across the river. Up ahead. We took the corner too fast, and were unable to avoid it.”

They had rammed the tree, and the canoe had turned sideways, tipped up, and immediately filled with water. They had jumped out of the boat, Michael said, the water wasn’t deep at that place, but all their things had fallen into the river. Their food was gone, and the camping stove and the paddles as well. All they’d been able to save had been a few things that had bobbed on the surface for a while.

Monika asked if he wanted something to eat. He said he wasn’t hungry. When we broke out our things, he ate with us after all. Then we decided to paddle on to find a place where there was more room for our tent. But Michael refused to get into a boat again.

“But how are you going to get away from this place, if not by boat?” asked Monika. I looked up the map. The nearest road was about three miles away. From there, it was at least another six to the nearest settlement.

“When did Sandra go?” I asked.

“Yesterday,” said Michael. “No, it was this morning, in the early hours.”

“We would get lost in the forest,” said Monika, “at least on the river there’s only one way to go.”

Things got a little tight in the tent. Michael lay upside down next to Monika and me. I lent him a pair of socks. His sleeping bag was damp, and it smelled moldy in the tent. Michael fell asleep immediately, and started breathing heavily and rhythmically.

“I think he must have a fungus or something. Normal people’s feet don’t smell so bad,” Monika whispered into my ear.

“It’s his sleeping bag, I think,” I whispered.

Then Monika started laughing quietly, and saying: “Oh, give it to me, oh, oh.”

“Ssh, he’ll hear.”

She unzipped my sleeping bag, and groped for me.

“Just to warm my hands,” she said.

“They’re ice cold.”

“That’s the disadvantage of being alone.”

I slept badly that night. When I woke up the next morning, Michael wasn’t in the tent. I could hear him walking about outside. My sleeping bag was damp, and I felt cold.

“Are you awake?” Monika asked beside me.

“Yes,” I said. “What’s he doing?”

“What are you doing?” Monika called out.

“I’m looking for my shoe,” Michael called back.

We crawled out of the tent. The weather was slightly better. It was still cloudy, but at least it had stopped raining. There was a thin mist between the trees and over the river. The air smelled of moldering wood. I put on some water to heat.